Read Online The Best American Mystery Stories 2015 by James Patterson, Otto Penzler - Free Book Online Page A

night was turning gray. They had guessed this might be the best time to make their move. With meth users, it wouldn’t matter if it was three in the morning or three in the afternoon. At least at dawn they’d have some light to shoot by.
    “Take this, would you, brother?” Jack said, handing over the shotgun.
    David put it next to the rifles, all three leaning against the bench seat between them, butts on the floor, barrels pointed toward the back window of the truck. The two rifles both had black scopes. David would be using them. The shotgun was just backup. On the floor were boxes of ammunition, more than they’d be able to use. Jack picked the Derringer off the seat and checked it. He’d already checked it once. Two shots. That was it. He took a deep breath.
    “I still think we should just go in shooting,” David said.
    “No,” Jack said. “This is the best way. Just trust me, okay?”
    “I trust you. It’s just you could be dead inside before I fire a goddamn shot.”
    “Ain’t gonna be that way. These are druggies. Speed freaks. They’re gonna have guns, but they ain’t gonna know how to use them.”
    “You said that already.”
    “If they ever fired them at all, it was out in the desert at bottles and cans.”
    “You said that a hundred times already.”
    “Most of them ain’t never shot something real, something moving. Just pretend they’re deer and do what you do when you got a buck in your sights.”
    David shook his head. “That don’t change the fact that it’d be better if we just went in together, guns blazing.”
    “They got cameras. They’d see us coming and be waiting at the front door with who knows what kind of firepower. We’re gonna be able to shoot better than them but that’s ’cause we’re prepared and they ain’t. If we give them time to be ready, things might be different. We talked about that a hundred times already too.”
    David shook his head like he always did when he still disagreed but didn’t want to argue.
    “This is the way we’re doing it. It’s the best way.”
    Truth was Jack wanted to keep his baby brother as far away from the fight as possible. He didn’t want both his brothers dead. But he couldn’t pull this off by himself. David was a good shot with a rifle—probably better than Jack, even at sixteen—and putting him in the truck would be a relatively safe place.
    Jack checked the Derringer again, then promised himself it would be the last time.
    “You ready?” he said.
    “Yep.”
    Jack believed his little brother. But he wasn’t so sure about himself.
    “Better go ahead and get down.”
    David crouched onto the floor and covered himself with a quilt their grandma had made. He pulled the guns toward him and covered them too. Jack put the Derringer inside his hat, tore off a piece of duct tape from the roll sitting on the seat, and taped the gun inside. He put the hat on. He’d practiced this; the gun fit nicely.
    Jack started the truck and pulled out of the parking lot. The five weeks since Jamie’s death had led him to this point. He and David had spent three of those weeks camping at Lake Tahoe, driving down into Carson City every night, asking questions, trying to find people. They were surprised by what they found going on in a town that didn’t seem all that big or special. Which probably meant this kind of stuff was happening everywhere. But their hunt was over. Now was this thing. And by noon they’d be done. David wanted to stop outside the city and get whores at the brothel before heading back to Montana. To celebrate. But Jack said they ought to see how they felt after it was all over. Truthfully, he didn’t know what to expect. He figured he’d never be the same person again after what they were about to do. Never. David neither probably. That is, Jack thought, if we ain’t dead.
     
    “All right,” Jack said as he pulled onto the street where the house was. “We’re here.”
    They’d driven down the street a few